


Six Variations on Loyalty

by angevin2



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Ambiguous Propositions, Awkwardness, Bisexual Character, Crown Lust, Fond Memories of Sexytimes, Meat Apples, Multi, Nobility in Compromising Positions, Oblique Blowjob References, Questionable Civic Ceremonies, Understated Angst, Unreliable Narration, Yuletide 2010, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angevin2/pseuds/angevin2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King's party (for it is, in fact, still the King's party) has not even left Flint Castle for London before Henry of Hereford, now styling himself Henry of Lancaster, begins trying to seduce Edward of Aumerle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Variations on Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakmefair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakmefair/gifts).



> Thanks to K. and C. for beta-reading!

The King's party (for it is, in fact, still the King's party) has not even left Flint Castle for London before Henry of Hereford, now styling himself Henry of Lancaster, begins trying to seduce Edward of Aumerle.

Not -- Edward would hasten to add -- in the literal sense, for even if Henry thinks him so easily bought he hasn't shown it _quite_ that blatantly, never mind that there hasn't exactly been an opportunity for _that_ kind of seduction, or that Henry would probably be completely terrible at it. But as Henry's men close in around Richard, he moves to take Edward's arm, and even this small an intimacy seems unfamiliar and uncomfortable to him. Edward tries his best not to flinch; his eyes remain on Richard, who appears implacable. He cannot help but remember the figures on the gilt double tomb Richard had had made for himself and Anne, and shivers.

( _\-- and my large kingdom for a little grave --_ )

"I promise, cousin," Henry says softly, "it will be for the best."

 _What will?_ Edward wants to ask, but remains silent. If Richard has not seen fit to force Henry to admit he seeks the crown, surely it is not his place to do so.

***

When Henry takes hold of the crown he can scarcely keep his hands from shaking; his lips part slightly and his breathing quickens as fingers brush gold. Their hands do not touch, but nevertheless, Richard shudders at the shock of contact.

Later Richard will have more than enough time, pacing the floor of his narrow prison cell, to wonder if he might have forestalled all of this by taking Henry into his bed: he has known for years that Henry has wanted that desperately, more than he would ever admit, even to himself -- _especially_ to himself, come to that -- but Richard generally preferred to fuck people he actually _loved,_ or at least _liked_ , or, perhaps more to the point, who were _not Henry_ , which after all would have made his life even more unnecessarily complicated.

It certainly isn't very complicated _now._ There is that.

Richard has always tried to pretend that love could be disentangled from policy, and it had been, once, when he'd had Anne, and Robert. He ought to have given up that ridiculous notion after they died, ought to have admitted to himself that fucking someone doesn't have anything to do with loving him, especially when one is king, and when one is king one had better not be so foolish as to pretend that anyone loves one for oneself.

He would have sworn before God that Edward, at least, was different -- that _Edward_ had loved him -- and yet there he had been, standing beside Henry (or very nearly). As Richard was escorted past the lords for the final time, he cast a final glance in Edward's direction, and Edward had lowered his eyes immediately.

***

It is generally acknowledged that dining with the King is a great honor. Edward supposes he had got used to it -- except now, of course, it is the _wrong_ king and Edward is used to nothing at all.

"We trust," Henry is saying, "that you understand the loss of your title is no suggestion of your disloyalty." He is clearly trying to keep his expression smooth; as always, he is not succeeding very well. Henry can pretend many things, but calm has always been slightly past his reach.

Edward stares down at his plate -- ground meat seasoned and spiced with currants, gilded with saffron and egg whites to resemble apples. He reminds himself that this is not actually a metaphor.

"Of course -- your Highness," Edward says, and hopes Henry doesn't notice how the words stick in his throat. He is somewhat better than Henry, he thinks, at dissimulation; he calls up the image of Richard at Flint Castle, once everyone had stopped pretending that he would come out of this still the king of England -- that same frozen countenance.

Not that Henry wouldn't recognize it, of course, but Edward wills himself to be frozen inside, as well.

"And we hope," Henry continues as though Edward had neither spoken nor been expected to speak, "that you will remain as good a friend to us as we know you have been to our cousin."

Edward is suddenly very glad he hasn't been able to eat much of the meat-apples, ill-mannered though it may be, for if he had been he would certainly be choking on them now.

It doesn't matter what Henry is actually asking him for. The answer, in either case, is no.

***

Richard sometimes has dreams about Anne where he _isn't_ reliving her death, a small mercy on the part of his memory -- at least, until the part where he has to wake up.

He has been remembering a quarrel with the city of London -- he cannot even recall what the damned thing was about, only that Anne had taken it upon herself to intercede publicly for the city, and had knelt before him in Westminster Hall in front of everybody to plead their case.

This had been eight years ago, and Richard still keenly remembers the blaze in his cheeks as she sank to her knees, and _every excruciating minute_ before they had leisure to go to bed.

"You were right, of course," he'd said afterwards, the words muffled against her hair, although he'd scarcely heard a word she'd said for the blood rushing in his ears. London might have had anything it wanted, then.

Anne smiled. "They're still yours," she'd said. "As I am."

***

One of the things you don't expect about becoming king, Henry soon discovers, is how very quickly you get tired of having people kneel in front of you and ask for things: positions, and grants, and patronage, and pardons for retainers.

Or, sometimes, pardons for your feckless cousin who is utterly terrible at trying to kill you.

Nevertheless, Henry isn't going to pretend he takes no grim satisfaction from the sight of Aumerle -- well, Rutland, he ought to remember that, since it was his own doing -- kneeling before him.

At least, until he thinks about him kneeling before _Richard._

***

Since having his life ignominiously handed to him by his usurping cousin, not a day goes by that Edward doesn't wish that he'd just _let_ Henry cut his head off.

It isn't until Richard's body is brought to Windsor that he truly feels he deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Flint Castle:** There is some discrepancy between the play and the historical events regarding where Richard and his followers go after landing in Wales. This fic follows the play throughout.
> 
>  **Robert:** Robert de Vere, Richard II's lover, was driven into exile in 1387 and killed in a boar hunt in 1392.
> 
>  **the loss of your title:** Cf. 5.2.41-43: "Aumerle that was, / But that is lost for being Richard's friend; / And, madam, you must call him Rutland now."
> 
>  **Meat apples:** This unpleasant-sounding dish is a real thing. Based on the multiple appearances of the recipe in medieval cookbooks, it seems to have been popular at the courts of Europe. [One such recipe](http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/foc/FoC119small.html) appears in _The Forme of Cury,_ which was compiled by Richard II's master chefs. So you can make it yourself if you are into questionably-festooned meatballs!
> 
>  **Richard's quarrel with London in 1392** was basically about him asking the city officials for money, the city not having any to spare, and Richard flipping out and taking the government to York for a month. Anne's intercession seems to have happened in basically the way I described it, although I am assuming about the sexy parts. Cf. also the poem [_Concordia facta inter regem et cives Londonie_](http://www.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/teams/maidfrm.htm), by Richard Maidstone, which is basically about Richard metaphorically having sex with London, so I feel my extrapolations are well-supported.


End file.
